Silence Over Tea
by gudrina
Summary: It was such a sad way to make love to someone. Each kiss a tragedy all on its own. His skin on mine a silent sorrow.


I'm sitting here now. Staring at you across this table, watching you watch me. Watching you sip that cup of tea and watch my glazed eyes over the green brim. You want to ask me what's wrong. What's on my mind. You want to ask me why my eyes seem so different now then they used to seem. And you worry I don't want this child. But it's not that. And you know that too.  
  
My mind can't help wondering off. Can't help having this imaginary conversation with you. Confession to you. It's so much easier then making my lips move. Making my voice flow into this crowded café and having to listen to you answer me with that worried voice. Those sad eyes. God, I love you, James.  
  
And if I told you what I'm thinking about now, you would walk out of this café. If I told you what happened that night. What really happened. If I told you everything I really know about Peter. If I told you, I'm afraid I couldn't look into your face again. That you wouldn't want me to.  
  
So much of this is my fault. What's happening. Sometimes I wish I were dead. And if I told you, maybe you would wish that too. Maybe you would if my stomach wasn't getting so big now. Or maybe even though it is.  
  
That night; day; that week becomes such a blur of images.  
  
The truth is I didn't know what I saw that night. I didn't know that what I had walked in on was anything bad. My mind didn't make the connection. Bellatrix and Severus were in the same house. I just thought they knew each other. I thought they were studying. And Peter was there. Didn't that make it alright? If there were anything wrong going on then Peter wouldn't be there. I trusted him so blindly. But lately I'm beginning to see through him, James. My mind's begun to put two and two together.  
  
I'm afraid he's not the same, James. I can't put what I think into words for you. You'd hate me for thinking them, I hate myself for it. I think of him sitting by the fireplace with us. I picture him putting his hand to my stomach, and that big smile. He keeps talking about when the baby's born. How he can't wait to be an uncle. And yet- there's something there. Behind that wide grin, behind those sparkling eyes. And maybe its just the fear that we all have now. But somehow, somehow James I know that its not.  
  
I remember you leaning over me in the library that night. Wrapping your arms around my shoulders and kissing my ear. You came around then and sat in front of me, you looked tired; drained in a way I couldn't remember seeing you before. All I wanted to do was fall into your arms and forget the world around us. I'd spent all week dreaming of this Saturday night. Dreaming of that empty tower with your brown eyes all to myself. And I was tired, too.  
  
You told me that you had quidditch practice; an astronamy final. That tonight just wasn't the night. And I stormed out of the library. I Left my books behind, my sweater, those two bottles of ink Peter bought me when he was in London.  
  
Why did quidditch always mean so much more then my arms?  
  
I know why I went to his room that night. I loved you, I always did. But you know you weren't always there for me the way I needed you to be. I wanted to defy you. I wanted to hate you as much as I thought you deserved to be hated.  
  
I borrowed your cloak and put on a thicker robe. And I went down to the dungeons.  
  
He didn't open the door the first time I knocked. I could hear him talking to someone and I thought maybe this was all a mistake, I should just leave. But when he opened it he smiled at me and invited me in. Bellatrix was there, sitting at his desk, reading something, a letter, and then I saw him. Peter was sitting on the desk chair, staring at me.  
  
It was a strange trio to find together. But there was so much in me that night. My scences must have been so dimmed, I was so stupid.  
  
I glared back at him. Defyed him to run tell you where I was. I was with your worst enemy. I was in his bedroom.  
  
Peter jumped up and followed Bellatrix out.  
  
Severus sat me down and put his arm around me. He was scared about Voldemort too. We must all wait it out together. And when I kissed him through my tears he kissed me back. I was so angry with you that night. For abandoning me for your quidditch practice and your astronomy. Why did a telescope have to mean more than me? More than my tears.  
  
I wanted to hate you. I wanted to show myself that you meant nothing to me. Finding my way into Sev's bed didn't make sense. Not then. Not now. I won't pretend it did. I won't say it seemed right then because every time I kissed him I was wishing it was you. I was wishing it was your rough tan hands on me instead of his pale skin.  
  
Severus pulled me onto the bed. I didn't resist. I pulled at his robes as hard as he pulled at mine. I wanted him no less then he wanted me. And if I regret anything my life, it is that night, James. He kissed my neck and whispered that it was all alright. And because this is all only a jumble of words in my head why shouldn't I say that I kissed his neck too. And his chest and his lips and his pale skin. And I whispered how I wanted him. Needed him. Loved him even. And all the while your picture at the back of my mind.  
  
It was such a sad way to make love to someone. Each kiss a tragedy all on its own. His skin on mine a silent sorrow. Not like anything it really meant to be. Not like what I have with you.  
  
I didn't mean to stay all night. It was morning already and I put my robes on in the dim lamplight, his eyes watching me from the bed. I tied my shoe leaning on the chair and picked up your cloak where it lay on his desk.  
  
The letter fluttered almost noiselessly to the floor. I picked it up, my hands feeling the rough parchment, my eyes in the dim light barely able to read the tight script, and when I saw the signature, it felt like someone had punched me.  
  
Yes I ran. Yes I ran that morning all the way to his office. Banged at it with my fists and knees. Kicked and punched until the statue let me in without the password. And when Dumbledore had calmed me down enough to speak, I told him I had gone to Severus' room to find the quill he had borrowed from me.  
  
But I'd been in the dungeons all night. There was no borrowed quill, no open door. I hadn't let myself in to accidently glimpse the letter. I had been there all night.  
  
The look on his face. On Dumbledore's face. I couldn't tell him about Peter. It was one thing to give up Snape. Bellatrix. I knew. Knew they were guilty. But Peter. Peter was my trusted friend then, James. I know you would have done the right thing. Told the truth. But I couldn't. I told him it had been only she had Snape looking at that letter when I went in. I never spoke of Peter.  
  
Not Peter. And when Bellatrix and Snape were disappeared from their beds. When the school was searched and both of them gone, I knew I'd done the right thing. Peter, afterall, was still there. I knew that they'd gone to *Him*, and if Peter hadn't gone. Then. Well I had been mistaken about him. He really wasn't in on what they were doing. Just there. But now I'm not sure. Not sure, James. I just don't know.  
  
I want to tell you not to trust him. But then I'll have to say all this out loud. I'll feel better when our baby's born. Then maybe my head will be clear and I can tell you about Peter. I know he would never hurt us. Even if he is with Voldemort. And maybe I'm really just wrong. 


End file.
